TCOLAD - Book 1: Hogwarts, a Home
by British Joe
Summary: Book 1 of "The Child of Light and Dark" Joseph Bard has a particularly dark past, littered with homelessness and a burned down orphanage. But when Professor Dumbledore arrives to tell the boy he's a wizard, rather than finding another Dark Lord, he finds Joseph to be enthusiastic, eccentric and a magnet for trouble. Joe meets and rather likes Harry Potter, and that never ends well.


**A/N:** Hey people! So this is the first fanfic that I'll be posting as I write it, and also the first fanfic I've posted at all. I'm writing this for NaNoWriMo, so bear in mind that this _is_ being rushed, and I plan to go back and fix things up at the end of the month.

Thanks to 31stMarch for Beta-ing for me!

Warnings for this chapter: Language and physical bullying, mentions of child abuse and homelessness.

* * *

**The Child of Light and Dark**

**Book 1: Hogwarts, a Home**

**Chapter 1**

On the west coast of England, halfway along a narrow, deserted alley, Albus Dumbledore appeared with a soft _pop_. He was wearing an old-fashioned, startlingly maroon suit, and as he took a moment to admire the rubbish-strewn, graffitied alley, there was another _pop_, and Professor McGonagall appeared at his side.

"This is the right place, I trust, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore, as Professor McGonagall began to lead the way out of the alleyway.

"Yes, this seems to be correct." replied Professor McGonagall.

They had emerged onto a wide, sunlit street. The air was thick with the smell of salt, and a quick look down a nearby side street gave Dumbledore a peripheral view of grey water, inching further and further away as the tide went out. The street itself was made up of small pieces of jagged stone, all in various shades of yellow and orange, forming a collage. As Dumbledore looked more closely, the street they were on turned out to be a church square, which formed an intersection between four different streets. The only things in the clearing, apart from themselves, were an old church and a large spitting fountain, which sat in front of it.

Dumbledore then caught sight of a huge, five hundred foot tower, vaguely reminiscent of the Eiffel Tower, and chuckled softly. "Ah, Blackpool. I confess, not once did I think I would set foot here again." he said to Professor McGonagall. She peered at him sideways as the two began walking out of the square, in the opposite direction of the water, but didn't comment.

"So, tell me about this boy we are here to see, Minerva." said Dumbledore, finally snapping out of his apparent adorant remembrance. "I believe you said his name was Joseph?"

"Joseph Bard, yes." said Professor McGonagall. "He's been living in the orphanage for about three years."

"And before that?" asked Dumbledore.

"No one's sure." confessed Professor McGonagall. "Or, rather, they know where he came from- he lived in the orphanage he was left at in London until the age of six, and then lived with a foster family for a year- but then there's a gap of about four months between that and him being brought to his current home. The staff seem to be under the impression that he was living on the streets." She glared at a nearby bus stop as she said this, as though it had been the reason for a child sleeping rough.

"The odd thing however, is that the home of his old foster family burned down around the time he disappeared."

"Indeed?" pressed Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised,

"Yes. "she said, frowning. "Joseph, as well as several of the other children disappeared, and the foster parents were badly injured. A few months later they were charged with over thirty cases of child abuse."

"I see." said Dumbledore after a moment, and he was staring at his feet now as he walked, deep in thought. "Did you manage to get any further details about the… accident?"

"Not much. This was around the time Filius was called away." said Professor McGonagall "However, it was clear from what we found that the cause of the fire was magical."

"That is… alarming, to say the least." sighed Dumbledore. "Though if he had been living with his abusers for a year before the fire, it could simply have been a particularly violent bout of accidental magic, reacting to his emotions." Dumbledore looked up again. "Any information on his parentage?"

"Nothing at this point. As I say, Filius was rushed away. They could have been Muggles, or they could have been Wizards. Ah, here it is."

They had arrived in front of what could have once been one of the many Bed & Breakfasts that Blackpool was so well-known for. The building was about four stories high, and its natural brickwork was still visible in-between windows. The tiny car park in front of the building had only two cars, a battered old Mustang and a minibus, and a sign at the front declared the establishment to be the 'Fylde Coast Children's Home.'

"I think it is time for you to put on your whiskers." said Dumbledore. When he did not receive a reply he looked down, and saw Professor McGonagall already in her Animagus form. The tabby cat trotted up to the front door, its tail in the air, and Dumbledore, chuckling softly, followed.

He knocked, and had to wait only a few seconds before the door was banged open. A teenage girl stood there, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, and a face that seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. "What?" she demanded, and Dumbledore caught a glimpse of yellowing teeth.

"Good morning." said Dumbledore pleasantly. "I'm here to see Miss Fraiser."

"She ain't-"started the girl, but a shout from inside interrupted her.

"_Rebecca!_"

A woman came into view, panting slightly, and ushered the girl away with a sharp "Finish your chores!" She was short and slightly plump, with black hair in a small bun, and dark eyes with lines under them. She stared at Dumbledore's eccentric appearance for a moment before speaking. "How can I help you?"

"Miss Fraiser, I assume?" asked Dumbledore, offering his hand.

"You assume correctly." said Miss Fraiser, and she shook Dumbledore's hand. "How can I help you?" she repeated.

"I'd like to talk to you about one of your children." Dumbledore told her. "Joseph Bard. Might I come in?"

A look of comprehension came across Miss Fraiser's face and she said, a little wearily. "Of course. Come right in, Mr…"

"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore. I thank you."

Miss Fraiser led Dumbledore into the building and across a wide hall, flanked on either side by a large staircase. The floor was hard and shiny, probably linoleum, and the walls a dark purple. Out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore saw Professor McGonagall slip up one of the staircases and out of sight.

They entered a large kitchen, where the girl from before, as well as several other children, were washing dishes at the sink.

"I'll just be in my office." Miss Fraiser told them, and it was almost a warning. "I expect you to be finished by the time I come back."

They all made various noises of assent. Miss Fraiser opened a door in the back of the kitchen with a pin number, and then led Dumbledore into a short hallway lined with doors. They entered the first one, which led into a small, cramped office. Miss Fraiser squeezed herself behind the desk and said "Please, have a seat."

Dumbledore did so, sitting down on the only other chair in the office. Miss Fraiser rubbed her eyes wearily for a moment before turning back to Dumbledore. All traces of tiredness were wiped from her face as she said. "You're here about Joseph?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "There is a boarding school in Scotland, of which I am Headmaster, and Joseph's name has been down for enrolment since his birth. I am here to offer him a place at my school, Hogwarts, starting this coming September."

Miss Fraiser didn't look remotely surprised at this information. "You must understand, Mr. Dumbledore," she said, with a little sigh. "Joe gets a lot of offers from schools like yours. A few months ago he turned down a place at Headington. He's very adamant about staying in one place until he's ready for university." It sounded like she gave this speech a lot. But, suddenly, she looked at Dumbledore as if only just seeing him.

"Wait a moment," said Miss Fraiser, her tone accusatory. "You said he has a place this coming term? What kind of school enrolls at the end of July? And _how_ has his name been down at birth? Was it his mother? We've never been told anything about this."

"I think this will explain everything." said Dumbledore. He picked up a notebook from the cluttered desk, flipped to a random, empty page, tapped it surreptitiously with his wand, and handed it across the table. Miss Fraiser gazed at it, and her eyes became unfocused.

"I… See." she said. She gave her head a little shake and put the notebook down, frowning. "Well, in that case, I'm afraid you'll have a job convincing him to come."

"I think I will manage." Dumbledore told her. "Why don't you tell me about him?"

"Alright." said Miss Fraiser, and she reclined in her seat as much as the small room would allow her. "Well, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that he's bright for his age. Not just academically, though. I've seen him outwit some of the staff before when they've tried to punish him for something he didn't do. He's also a very capable performer. He plays piano," she added, seeing the question in Dumbledore's face. "And he sings. He's very good." Miss Fraiser paused for a moment, deep in thought. "He scares some of the other children." she said, more to herself than to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had a familiar sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, and remembered all those years ago, hearing similar words in an orphanage like this one. He proceeded as he had then. "You mean… he is a bully?"

Miss Fraiser's eyes widened, and she looked affronted at the mere thought. "No! Oh, good lord, no." She sighed, looking tired again. "We're in a bit of a… situation at the moment. You see, an orphonage nearby is closing down, and its former residents are being sent here regularly. They stay for six months, and then get moved to a permanent location somewhere else in the country. It's a form of rehabilitation for them. The home they came from wasn't very… hospitable. It's being closed down for not caring for them properly."

"And what does this have to do with Joseph?" asked Dumbledore politely.

"Well, the children coming here are… they're used to living a certain way." said Miss Fraiser, and Dumbledore could tell she was picking her words carefully. "They're violent, because that's how they had to be to survive in their old home. But this creates a certain amount of tension between them and our current wards. I suppose you could say they've been split into two factions; those who have spent the past few years here, and those who are here temporarily. They've even begun calling themselves the Temporaries.

"Anyway, they, the Temporaries, bully the children already with us. Some of the older ones have even assaulted the staff. Rebecca, the girl you saw, has only recently joined us, and has already lashed out at three children, and two staff members. However all of the Temporaries, out of all the other children here, do not harm Joe. At all. They flinch away from him at mealtimes, and actively avoid walking past his bedroom. I have asked him about it," She paused here, and looked at Dumbledore beseechingly. "Obviously I didn't think he was harming them; they're so much older than him. But I had to check."

"Naturally." Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "Please continue."

"I asked him," Miss Fraiser continued. "And he told me that all he did was ask them to stop bullying people." Her face was an odd mix of puzzlement and worry. "He just asked them to stop, and some of them did. I've never seen anything like it, but Joe has that sort of effect on people." For the first time, Miss Fraiser allowed a small smile to grace her face. It was if she was completely different woman when she smiled. Her dark eyes lit up, and she looked younger. "I suppose you'd like to speak with him, then?"

"That would be helpful, yes." said Dumbledore, and he stood and followed Miss Fraiser from the office.

* * *

McGonagall leapt lightly up the stairs, coming to rest in a hallway lined with doors, turning away at both ends. In her feline state, McGonagall detected the sound of a piano being played to the right, Curiously, she padded down the hall in that direction, and followed it as it turned left.

She followed the sound up another flight of stair, along another short hallway, and then right. Once there she paused, staring ahead of her. McGonagall was sure she'd found the source of the piano; it was clearly coming from the door at the end of the hallway in front of her. However , the way was blocked by three boys.

The first and youngest was cowering on the floor, his back almost touching the door hiding the piano. His hair was fair and short, and he wore a pair of rectangular glasses over his eyes, which were closed tight with pain. The other two were clearly in their early teens, both brown-haired, one slightly taller than the other, and scowling down at the boy on the floor.

"Give us your pocket money, Stevie." hissed the taller boy. He whispered it, rather than shouted, so quietly that McGonagall wouldn't have heard it if she was in her human form. She found this rather odd, and crept forward silently.

The young boy, Stevie, trembled and slid backwards. He opened his mouth to shout something, but this was apparently what the other two boys had been waiting for. The shorter one lunged forwards and clapped a hand over Stevie's mouth. The other stepped forwards and kicked him, hard, in the stomach. A muffled scream escaped from beneath the shorter boy's hand, and Stevie started crying. He tried to slide backwards again, and caught the side of his head on the doorframe with a muffled thump. McGonagall crouched, ready to spring away and get help if none arrived in the next ten seconds.

"Now, let's try this again," jeered the taller boy, and he leaned his face closer to Stevie, threateningly. "Give us your damn-"

None of them had noticed that the piano had stopped playing. They did notice, however, when the door was flung open, and a boy stepped out.

McGonagall could tell at once that this was Joseph. He was tall for his age, and very pale. Dark brown, almost black hair settled in messy disarray on top of his head, and his eyes, light hazel, narrowed as he saw who was outside the door. The two older boys looked terrified at the sight of him, and started to back away slowly.

"J-Joe," the tall one stammered, his eyes wide with fear.

"What did I tell you?" Joe snarled. McGonagall was alarmed to see the malice in his young face.

The shorter boy let out a soft moan, shivering.

"I told you, as I believe you recall," Joe continued, advancing on them slowly, glaring. "To stop hurting my friends, and to stay on your side of the building. Now, I'm trying to see things from your point of view. Really, I am; I just can't seem to get my head that far up my own arse."

"We're s-sorry!" said the tall boy, his back against the wall. "We w-won't hurt anyone again, p-promise!"

"Your word means nothing to me." said Joe conversationally. "But I'll take it. Now _piss off_."

They needed no other prompting than this. Both boys sprinted away, past McGonagall, and out of sight. _Odd,_ she thought, watching Joe crouch down next to Stevie, murmuring. _They're absolutely terrified of him. What has he been doing to them? His linguistic skills seem to be rather advance, too, never mind the cursing…_

She was dragged sharply out of her musings on the boy, however, when she was yanked into the air by her tail.

"Who let a mongrel in here?" demanded the girl from downstairs, Rebecca. McGonagall looked at her upside-down as the girl cackled, and started swinging her through the air by her tail. The world became a spinning blur, incomprehensible, and she yowled instinctively.

"Put her down."

Rebecca stopped spinning her, and McGonagall was allowed a brief moment of stillness before she was flung backwards. She hit the wall with a hiss, a sharp stab of pain in her hip.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, kid? Bossing me around. Ha!" McGonagall looked up to see Rebecca advancing on Joe, her fist raised. Then, quiet suddenly, she stopped dead with a small gasp. Her eyes had gone blank, and she turned her head frantically from side to side.

"Who turned out the lights?" she demanded, groping around the open air until she found a wall.

"Oh, no one turned out the lights. You're blind." said Joe, as if this should be self-evident, and he walked towards Rebecca, who now had her back pressed against the wall.

"Bullshit." said Rebecca, though her voice wavered. "What did you do?"

"Oh, it wasn't me." Joe told her. She flinched from his voice, closer and deadlier than before. "It was the ghost."

"Ghost?"

"Oh, yes." said Joe. "A little girl who died in this building decades ago. She was pushed down the stairs by a bully like you, and snapped her neck. Now she's trapped here, and the only thing that gives her enjoyment is punishing bullies like you." It sounded, to McGonagall, a very rehearsed tale, as if Joe had told it numerous times before. This, however, did not diminish its effect on the girl, who had sunk to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself.

"You're new, aren't you?" Joe asked her, and she nodded quickly. "Well, in the spirit of fair play, I'll give you one warning; this will happen every time you hurt someone, and it just gets worse. I recommend you stop now, before she decides to show you what her body looked like. I heard she showed Liam, and he hasn't spoken since."

"I'll stop!" whimpered the girl. "I won't hurt anyone. Just make it stop."

Without any apparent movement on Joe's part, the girl blinked, and her eyes came back into focus. She trembled as she got to her feat, then ran from Joe without another word.

Stevie stumbled towards Joe, his hand rubbing his stomach. "Whose cat do you think it is?" he asked Joe, peering down at her.

"I don't know…" Joe murmured, and he crouched down, extending a hand towards her. "C'mere, girl. Are you hurt?"

McGonagall got to her feet and, after failing to put pressure on her injured leg, hopped towards Joe. The boy started stroking her back in long sweeps, whispering calming words under his breath. After a bit, Professor McGonagall became aware that the pain was disappearing; it became less and less with each stroke of Joe's hand, as if he were numbing it. When the pain was gone, she butted her head against Joe's hand, and Joe scratched her ears, grinning.

"There, that's better." said Joe, and he carefully picked her up. She settled in his arms, purring. "We should take her to Miss Fraiser." Joe told Stevie.

"Joseph!" came a shout from the stairs. "You have a visitor!"

"Maybe that's your owner." Joe said to the cat, and he carried her downstairs, Stevie at his side.

* * *

When Joe had reached the first floor, he noticed the strange man. He looked at Miss Fraiser, puzzled.

"This is Professor Dumbledore, Joe." Miss Fraiser said, smiling. "He's Headmaster of a school in Scotland, and he'd like to talk to you."

Joe nodded in understanding. "It's nice to meet you, sir." he said, offering the hand that wasn't holding the cat to Dumbledore. "Nice beard." he added.

Dumbledore chuckled and shook Joe's hand. "You as well, Joseph, and thank you. I see you have found my cat."

Joe smiled, and scratched the cat's ears again. "Yeah, about that," he said, and addressed Miss Fraiser. "Ethan and Toby cornered Stevie upstairs. They were trying to take his pocket money, and Ethan punched him. That new girl hurt the cat, too." At this, Dumbledore shot a look of concern towards the cat. She leapt out of Joe's arms lightly and went to sit by Dumbledore's feet, her limp barely noticeable.

Miss Fraiser sighed. "I'll sort it out, Joe." she promised him. "Why don't you take Professor Dumbledore into the garden? You'll have some privacy there."

The two of them, along with Dumbledore's cat, walked out of the back doors of the kitchen, and into a large garden, bordered with a wooden fence. Along one side was an assortment of plants. The rest of the garden was a wide field, littered with toys, picnic tables, and a single swing. Joe sat down at one of the tables, and Dumbledore seated himself opposite him.

Joe started speaking without preamble. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, but I won't be attending your school in Scotland."

Dumbledore chuckled again. "I understand you get offers like this a lot, Joseph-"

"Just Joe is fine." Joe told him.

"Of course." said Dumbledore, with a little nod and a smile. "Well, as I was saying, I doubt you will have had an offer from a school like Hogwarts. Hogwarts, you see, is a school of magic."

There was a short pause. "Magic." said Joe flatly.

"Magic." Dumbledore agreed cheerfully. There was another pause.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Joe at last. "I mean this with the upmost respect, but… The hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sure you know what I am taking about, Joe." said Dumbledore. "We both know that you can do things that are, perhaps, out of the ordinary. What you are doing is magic, and Hogwarts is designed to teach young Witches and Wizards, of which you are, how to use and control their magic."

Joe was staring at him. He swallowed, and when he spoke again, he sounded excited, despite himself. "I'm a Wizard?" he asked quietly. "That would explain a lot. How I can protect people so well. But…" Joe seemed to see him in a new light. "That means you're a Wizard too, right? You can do things like I can?"

"That is correct." said Dumbledore.

"Can you show me?"

Dumbledore took an exaggerated glance around, checking to see if anyone was watching, and then pulled out a long, wooden stick. Joe's mind automatically gave the piece of wood the name "wand" when Dumbledore, with a little wave of the thing, conjured a small fire between them on the table. Joe started back, but then grinned.

"Awesome!" he breathed, but when he looked at Dumbledore's face, it was deadly serious. He felt his grin fade.

"Magical fire is powerful, Mr. Bard, and deadly." said Dumbledore gravely. Joe noticed how Dumbledore had suddenly become more formal. "It easily goes out of control, as I'm sure you are aware."

Joe felt cold, despite the warm day and the fire inches from him. His mouth was dry. How the hell did Dumbledore know about _that?_ He saw the memories in his head, almost as if Dumbledore were watching the events happen through his eyes.

"I… I know, Sir." Joe said quietly. "I didn't… It wasn't like that. They were hurting my friends, and I was trying to save-"

"I am aware of the circumstances, Mr. Bard." Dumbledore told him, and with another wave of the wand, the fire disappeared, leaving no burn behind. "Just know that if you feel the need to take such drastic action at Hogwarts, I urge you to speak with a Professor, rather than… take matters into your own hands."

Joe nodded at once. "Of course, sir. Nothing like it will happen, you have my word."

Dumbledore smiled. "Wonderful. So am I to take it you are accepting your place at Hogwarts?"

Joe looked into his lap and frowned. "I don't know." he said. "I mean, this sounds fantastic, but I want to go to university, and I doubt they'll accept a degree in pulling a rabbit out of a hat."

"Wizarding qualifications are at the same standard of non-magical qualifications, if I recall correctly." said Dumbledore softly, and Joe whipped his head up to look at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"If I am not mistaken, OWLs are equivalent to GCSEs, and NEWTs are equivalent to A Levels."

"Are you saying I could use them to get into university?" Joe asked excitedly.

"I do not see why not." said Dumbledore, smiling. "Providing you get the Ministry of Magic to provide alternate certificates."

The words 'Ministry of Magic' seemed to have opened a dam in Joe's head, and the questions spilled forth. There's a Ministry of Magic? Is it the same as our government? Are there any magic universities? How long would he study at Hogwarts? Wait, if he was magic, does that mean his parents were magic, too?

Dumbledore answered them all easily, before pausing at the last. "As for your parentage, Joe, I cannot say. They may have been Muggles- that is to say, non-magical- or one or both of them could have been a Wizard. It is, as you can imagine, quite hard knowing for certain. But, look at us," said Dumbledore, checking the sun, which was now high overhead. "Getting ahead of ourselves when you have yet to agree to attend."

"Yes." said Joe at once. "Yes, I'd love to attend Hogwarts. It would be an honour."

"Wonderful." Dumbledore reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope of yellow parchment. He handed it across the table to Joe. The address made him laugh.

'Mr. J Bard

The North-West Bedroom on the Third Floor

Fylde Coast Children's Home

Vale Road

Blackpool, Lancashire'

"Inside here is a list of books and equipment, as well as your ticket to catch the Hogwarts Express. Yes," he added, sensing the question before Joe asked it. "You will take a train to school." As Joe took out his equipment list and looked at it, Dumbledore said "There is a fund at Hogwarts allocated for those who cannot afford to buy their own equipment. You may- Yes?" Dumbledore paused, for Joe, apparently unwilling to interrupt the Headmaster, had raised his hand.

"I have my own money." Joe told him, lowering his hand.

This shocked Dumbledore. "You do?"

Joe nodded with a sad little smile. "My mother is still alive." he said, tracing a carving on the table with his little finger. "She's in the Bethlem Royal Hospital for Mental Illness. She doesn't recognize me, but my grandparents had money, and left it all to her."

"I see." said Dumbledore respectfully. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." said Joe. "You didn't make her like that." He glanced back towards the door. "You can talk with Miss Fraiser about it; she's in charge of my money."

"Of course, I shall." said Dumbledore. He brought out a pocket watch and checked the time. "Well, Joe, I feel I have taken up enough of your time. My only remaining question is whether you'd like some assistance with getting your school supplies?"

"Oh." Joe had forgotten, for a moment, that he had just agreed to attend a school of magic, and he grinned. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"In which case a member of faculty, Professor McGonagall, shall be here at nine o'clock tomorrow to take you to London."

Joe's face lit up. "Oh, Awesome!" he said enthusiastically. "Tomorrow's my birthday!"

"Indeed?" said Dumbledore, and he glanced at his cat, which stared back at him. They were interrupted by Joe saying "What's Professor McGonagall like?"

"You have already met." Dumbledore told him, glancing away from his cat. At Joe's confused look, he gestured to the cat.

In one long, fluid motion, that looked oddly like a stretch, the cat balanced on its back legs and grew upward and outwards. A tall woman was now standing there, dressed in an emerald green cloak and pointed hat; a Witch if Joe had ever seen one.

Joe stared at her, opened mouthed. "Oh. My. Fu- Fudge." he stammered, correcting himself at the last moment. "Are you alright, ma'am? That girl threw you."

"I am quite fine, thanks to you, Mr. Bard." said Professor McGonagall. "Thank you."

The dam in Joe's mind was threatening to overflow with questions again. Dumbledore, apparently expecting this, said "And now, Joseph, we take our leave."

"Just Joe." Joe reminded him, shaking his hand a second time.

"Ah, but I am your Headmaster now, Joseph, not a kind stranger. I'm afraid it will be 'Joseph' or 'Mr. Bard' for the next seven years." said Dumbledore.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Bard." said Professor McGonagall, and he shook her hand, too. Them, with a crouch, she shrunk back down to her cat form, and the two walked back inside the building.

Joe allowed them a few minutes to talk to Miss Fraiser in private, in which he laid down on the grass, closed his eyes, and savored the thought; _I'm special. I'm a Wizard. I'm magical._

* * *

They were back in Dumbledore's office, and after refusing the offered lemon drop as usual, Professor McGonagall said. "His magic, Albus. You saw it in my mind. He has _such control_. How is this possible?"

"I have a theory." said Dumbledore, looking up at the ceiling. "And that is all that it is; a theory. I shall need to look into this further."

"And his birthday," Professor McGonagall went on, barely pausing for breath. "Albus, the Prophecy-"

"I know, Minerva." Dumbledore told her. He looked at her from over his interlocked hands. "There is much mystery surrounding our young Joseph Bard. A dead, unknown father, a living mother in a mental institution, an unquenchable curiosity and an unnatural level and control of his magic. Very curious." He looked at her. "Watch him closely tomorrow."

"I will, Albus." said Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore dismissed her, and she left.

Dumbledore rose to his feet and approached the phoenix snoozing on its perch. He leaned close to the bird and whispered to it. Fawkes's eyes opened, and when Dumbledore straightened up, Fawkes opened his wings wide, and disappeared in a cloud of flames.


End file.
